Losing My Religion

Morning came much too quickly, although the hangover wasn’t as bad as anticipated.  I had arranged for a cab to drop me off at my pick up point at the Arts Centre in the CBD.  Thankfully the café was open to grab a flat white to perk myself up to be sociable with those I would be sharing time with over the next few days

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Mardi had texted me later in the day advising that the three coffees she had by midday still hadn’t shed the fatigue from the night before, but we both agreed it was a worthwhile price to pay.  I’m gonna miss those two cats, but I suspect they’ll be another encounter before I skip off to South East Asia.

I was the second passenger on the tour that would end up being a total of five folks including myself.  I didn’t mind the small numbers as I figured it would lead to a more personalized experience.  

Iladia was an Italian resident in her late 20’s.  She is from a small town outside San Remo where she runs a seasonal café on the beach and spends her winters travelling.  She spent the last several months in Sydney working as a server and apparently met her future husband, a fellow travelling Italian.  I hope it works out for her. 

Anke is a girl hailing from Cologne in her mid 20’s.  She had spent just under a year in Oz, outside Sydney working at an orphanage.  She has plans to return to Germany next month to pursue a career in jewellery, first in retail to hone her skills working towards having her own shop down the road.  

The final members of our troupe were an empty nester couple from Saskatoon.  They are both retired, Charlene from teaching and Vern who also plied his trade at the University of Saskatchewan in Agricultural Studies.  They have a flax farm, a mere 1,600 acres that they have possessed their entire lives.  Vern was a great socializer and had travelled the world over through various walks of life in his professional career. I enjoyed the variety of discussions we had over course of the tour.  However, I knew he was biting his tongue during some of our political exchanges.   Bless the rural/urban divide of our nation. Westerners!  

Dave, the co-proprietor of Goin’ South was our guide for the 3d/2n journey ahead of us.  He was a decent guy, but was more of a chauffeur than anything.  I’ll explain more along the way.  He was originally in the meat & agriculture business, then going on to set up a labour placement agency with his wife Sonja via their hostel before establishing Goin' South seven years ago.

We headed out of Melbourne towards the Great Ocean Road and the 12 Apostles.  It was a two hour trek until our destination, so after introductions I got some much needed sleep.  Aah!

Twelve Apostles

We made a pit stop in Apollo Bay for some lunch.  We were given free time (a trend that would continue on the tour) to find eats. It was a small little community, but I actually didn’t have much of an appetite.  I think the lack of suitable choices had a lot to do with that.  I forced myself to grab a sandwich at a café, but my indecisiveness made me little tardy for our rendezvous back at the tour bus, which was an 8 seater Toyota vehicle larger than a minivan. It seems tardiness is still a trait I managed to bring overseas. 

We then headed over to Port Campbell National Park to visit the Twelve Apostles.  I recall being mesmerized by the photos that Chris & Megan shared from their trip here, but seeing the massive limestone stacks in person left me in awe.   It was an impressive and stunning act of nature.  I was so taken aback by the site that I was once again a little late meeting the group back at the tour bus.  This time I received some jeers.  Fair enough.  

Twelve Apostles

Twelve Apostles

I was beginning to realize this is why I haven’t ever been on a tour before.  Schedules and restrictions don’t really mesh with me. Ya know whadda I mean?  Anyway, at the next pit stop Dave actually joined our walk about.  I knew the rationale behind his manoeuvre, but I figured it forced him to be more guide than driver so I was just doing my part to enrich the tour. Ha!

Twelve Apostles

We stopped at few other places along the Road, including Loch Ard Gorge and the Bay of Martyrs.  The latter was the place where the ‘white’ man literally forced the Aboriginals off the cliff plunging to their death.  Seems this type of ethnic cleansing is a worldwide phenomenon, now it’s a tourist stop for pictures.  

We also had a pause at London Bridge, which was once attached to mainland up until a few years back.  Dave shared a funny anecdote where there was a couple stranded on the island after the cave in.  The couple made media headlines around the country.  He was a Kiwi who apparently played hooky from work and to top it off the woman he was with wasn’t his wife.  Sometimes one’s 15 minutes of fame isn’t how one hopes. Fool. 

Upon wrapping up this portion of the tour we made our way into Warrambool to rest for the night.  The hostel was run by a friend of Dave’s, but was a little dishevelled, at best.  We arrived early evening so it made it a little easier to tolerate our surroundings.

Dave mustered up a pasta dinner, but it was disappointing.  I don’t think I was the only one possessing this sentiment, after all there was a true Italian in our group.  It was assembled from a pre-packaged food product along with a frozen Bavarian cake for dessert.  At least there was salad.  

London Bridge

Loch Ard Gorge

This was a prime example of how Dave/Goin' South failed to execute any Customer Relationship Management (CRM) skills to understand the expectations of their clients.  It was no surprise that after dinner Dave picked my brain on the virtues of the art of hospitality from marketing to analytics.  I obliged in sharing some generic industry insights.  However, the provider really shouldn’t be seeking advice from one’s clients….at least not in this fashion.  Nevertheless he was enlightened with our conversation and realized there was much more work that could be done to stimulate his enterprise.  As the adage goes sometimes the more you learn, the less you know.

Bay of Martyrs

It was evident that this business venture was conjured up as something to do after the labour placement agency went by the wayside.  It’s too bad because I think as a small operator there is an opportunity to offer a very personalized experience that the big fish cannot provide; perhaps targeting a micro niche of glampers (glamourous campers) or flash packers who possess a little more discretionary income and don’t want to be grouped with younger travellers.  Aside from possessing local lore, I figure I could setup shop as a tour operator tailoring operations to the discerning traveller and be more successful.